


Little Things

by eleanorbramwell



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8915614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanorbramwell/pseuds/eleanorbramwell
Summary: This is going to be a collection of one-shots exploring the little things that Bernie and Serena find out about each other after they move in with each other.Mostly super fluffy, with a smattering of angst.





	

_Gardening_

* * *

 

It’s early spring, when Bernie finds out just _how_ much Serena loves gardening. Bernie has obviously seen the immaculate back garden, been out in it, and Serena warns her often enough about trampling on the grass when she sneaks out for a fag. But over the winter there just wasn’t that much to do once you’ve cut off the dead heads and given the grass a final mow. So Bernie hadn’t realised just how hands on with her garden Serena actually was. And really, she thinks, she couldn’t very well be blamed, for her only real experience with flowers had been the limp bunches Marcus had given her for anniversaries and the cactus in a terracotta pot that she and Alex had tried (and failed) to keep alive on the dusty floor of their barracks in Afghanistan.

As it turns out, a Sunday morning trip to the garden centre is all Bernie really needs to confirm that she shares absolutely none of the same affection for the green fingered hobby that Serena does. Bernie honestly couldn’t even remember the last time she’d stepped foot in a garden centre. (Had she ever?). Serena had sold it to her as more of a day out, said that they’d spend the morning picking up the flowers and bulbs and other things that the brunette needed, then they’d have lunch in the little tea room that occupied the back corner of the building. If Bernie was honest, she’d switched off when Serena began talking about perennials and only found herself nodding vigorously in agreement when she’d heard a mention of carrot cake.

What Bernie didn’t know was just how much planning it took to maintain a garden as lovely as Serena’s. Apart from knowing that it took a bit of soil and water to get flowers to grow in the first place she was completely unaware that some plants absolutely couldn’t be planted next to each other, that certain plants needed special soil and that some plants however pretty they were just wouldn’t flourish in the south facing garden because there wasn’t enough shade. Unsurprisingly, Bernie isn’t shocked to learn just how much she doesn’t actually care about any of it and after 3 hours of walking around trying to feign interest for Serena’s sake, Bernie has just about had enough.

“I don’t see why you don’t just pay someone else to do all of this for you.” Bernie says, eyeing up a particularly garishly attired gnome that reminds her of the one and only Sacha Levy. She means it as a joke, really, but the exasperation that seeps out around the edges of her words makes it sound much meaner than she had intended and she cringes.

Bernie immediately realises that it was possibly the very worst thing she could have said when Serena actually looks around at her, crestfallen. It’s clear Bernie’s words have hit a nerve and a knot tightens in Bernie’s stomach as the hurt on Serena’s face gives way to anger.

“I don’t know Bernie, maybe I actually enjoy spending time outside, tending these flowers and watching them grow. Maybe they remind me that despite how horrific the world is sometimes that beauty still exists.”

Bernie closes her eyes, Serena’s words hit her like a punch to the gut. Stupid insensitive fool. “Serena. I'm.., sorry.” She whispers, already knows it’s futile.

“If you weren’t interested Bernie you didn’t have to come along at all.” Serena sputters out quietly, the look in her eyes warning Bernie away from any type of reply. It quickly becomes obvious to Bernie that they aren’t going to argue. Serena has no interest in putting on a public show. But she pushes the overflowing trolley to the checkout, pays for the plants in a and leaves the garden centre in a huff, with Bernie trailing silently behind her. Their plans for lunch are forgotten, and the frosty drive home turns into Serena sulking all night.

When bedtime rolls around, Bernie stays on the sofa, pretending to be interested in some horrendously mind-numbing documentary on the housing market. She can hear Serena upstairs, pottering around, the opening and shutting of drawers. Then suddenly the TV switches off and Bernie turns around to see Serena, the TV remote in her hand, looking at her expectantly. Bernie swallows thickly, she can smell the jasmine of Serena’s body lotion and it momentarily knocks the ability to form words out of her brain.

“Are you coming to bed or are the in’s and out’s of how Brexit has ruined the country really more exciting?” Serena raises her eyebrows and smirks, not a hint of the earlier anger in her voice. Bernie wonders what on earth she has done, to deserve Serena ‘I hold take it to the grave grudges’ Campbell giving her a free pass on a monumental slip up.

“Come on you.” Serena says, and Bernie complies, shaking her head slightly as she follows Serena up the stairs.

* * *

It was their first proper fight, albeit a completely stupidly avoidable one, Bernie realises as she lays awake in bed that night. Serena is softly snoring into the pillow beside her and Bernie reaches over to brush the hair out of the sleeping woman's eyes. Bernie had carelessly stomped around on top of Serena’s feelings earlier and regardless of the brunette’s forgiveness (and it has already occurred to Bernie that she’d done absolutely nothing to earn it) she doesn’t like it one bit. She thinks about it for a while, hatches a plan as she nibbles on her bottom lip.

After a bit of research, with the help of Jason who she’s sworn to secrecy, she returns to the garden centre. On a bloody Saturday of all days and the place is even more packed out than it had been a couple of weeks ago. Bernie weaves through the people who are milling about, ooh-ing and aah-ing over plants with pretentious names and thrusts a piece of paper into the hands of a rather terrified looking teenage shop assistant. After deciphering Bernie’s scrawly handwriting, leads her over to what she’s looking for.

It’s an ugly plant, she thinks. Just a bit of green stalk in one of those flimsy plastic pots, it looks nothing like the photos she’d seen on the internet. Then it dawns on her that she is going to have to grow the bloody thing.

“Splendid plan Wolfe.” She mutters as she pays for the plant, laments as she realises the soil is going to get all over the new floor mats in her car.

Luckily it’s Raf to the rescue and and he agrees to keep her secret as she deposits the plant in his own, smaller, still neatly kept back garden and promises to tend to the thing as much as it needs.

“Two, three, four times a week. Day or night. I don’t care Mr Di Lucca.” She warns him, and he holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Call me if it starts to look a bit worse for wear.”

“I hear you loud and clear Major.” He grins, “Over and out.”

Bernie only lets him get away with that one because he’s doing her a massive favour.

* * *

It’s almost the end of June by the time Bernie is finally satisfied with the plant’s progress. It’s been a bit hit and miss, Bernie had practically drowned the poor thing for the first few days until Raf had told her that too much water could be just as bad as not enough. Then there was the half term week in May when Raf and Fletch had taken the kids away to a caravan in Skegness and forgotten to leave Bernie a key. She’d had to climb over the back gate in order to make sure the plant didn’t scorch to death on the hottest day of the year. And just last week Serena had almost, almost spotted it hidden behind the shed during Raf’s summer barbecue.

Even though it’s been re-potted twice it’s positively _blooming_ out of the white ceramic planter as Bernie and Raf struggle to get it to balance on the front seat of her tiny sports car.

“She’s going to absolutely love that you know.” Raf smiles.

“I hope so, it took bloody long enough.” Bernie replies, rolling her eyes, but she can’t keep the smile off her face.

She’ll never admit it, but Bernie has actually quite enjoyed the whole process. Admittedly maybe not enough to do it again, but it was the first time she’s actually managed to keep a plant alive and she was quite pleased with herself.

* * *

Bernie parks around the back and manages to lug the plant through the gate and garden without dropping it (stopping twice, her blasted back) or Serena noticing. There’s a spot on the patio next to the railway sleeper overflowing with deep violet coloured pansies where Bernie thinks this particular plant will look especially nice. They’ve both got the day off and Bernie can see Serena has been out there this morning, a couple of weary looking rose heads resting on the grass alongside Serena’s shocking pink gardening gloves. Despite Bernie’s earlier misgivings about gardening itself, she’s come to realise that there is something particularly lovely about Serena when she’s been out in the garden. When she comes in, cheeks and shoulders tinged pink from the sun and flower petals and bits of grass in her hair. Relaxed and happy and _lighter_ somehow, and Bernie surmises that gardening does the same for Serena as a good long run does for herself.

She spots Serena through the kitchen window and hurries inside the back door. She doesn’t want the surprise spoiled now, not after all the hard work.

“Where did you come from?” Serena asks as Bernie calls out a greeting from the living room.

“Oh it’s rammed out the front, so I had to put the car round the back.” The lie tumbles smoothly from Bernie’s mouth but Serena raises her eyebrow. From this part of the kitchen she can see straight through to the front, and there’s plenty of spaces.

“Hello you,” Serena smiles, stepping into the living room. She crosses the space in three big steps and kisses Bernie’s cheek, her forehead, her lips.

“Did someone miss me?” Bernie smirks, kisses Serena full on the mouth before pulling her in for a hug, “I’ve only been gone for an hour and a bit.”

“Felt like longer.” Serena mumbles on Bernie’s shoulder and the blonde knows she’s got a pout on her face even without being able to see.

“Well, I’ve got something for you, it might just make it up to you.” Bernie says, and she feels Serena perk up with excitement in her arms. “You have to close your eyes though.” She says and Serena nods.

Bernie spins her around, places one hand over her eyes anyway, because she  _ knows  _ Serena, knows she always peaks at surprises. Puts one hand on her shoulder and pushes her gently towards the open french doors.

“Oi.” Serena protests, “I’m fully capable of keeping my eyes closed.”

Bernie snorted. “ We both know that is entirely untrue Serena. Keep walking."

Serena’s foot catches slightly on the step and she stumbles. “Fat lot of good you’ll be when I’m old and blind.”

“Sssh, we’re nearly there.”

“If I break a bone Berenice…” Serena warns, her voice playful.

“Don’t worry I’m a doctor.” Bernie grins, and she hears Serena tut, feels her eyes roll under her palm.

“Okay, we’re here.” Bernie announces proudly, and she moves her hand away from Serena’s eyes, waits patiently for Serena to notice what’s different.

And Serena does notice. It’s hard not to, with the way the plant’s lilac and purple flowers spill out over the ceramic pot onto the patio. It’s a rather magnificent plant, if Bernie could say so herself.

“It’s beautiful.” Serena gasps, looking back and forth between the plant and Bernie. She takes a step closer to it, runs her fingertips over the delicate petals. “You bought this for me?” she asks, genuinely wondering, because Bernie has never bought her flowers before. 

(“What’s the point if they wither and die, I’d rather get you something that’s going to last.” Bernie had said after handing over a first edition of To Kill a Mockingbird on Serena’s birthday, and Serena hadn’t been able to argue with that logic.) 

Bernie blushes, a deep pink that rises from her chest to her cheeks. “I grew it for you.” she says shyly and Serena audibly gasps.

“You? Grew it?” Serena asks softly, not in disbelief but in awe that Bernie, the same Bernie who hated gardening had grown her the most beautiful plant.

“I had a bit of help from Raf.” Bernie admits, but Serena’s attention has been captured by the little white tag sticking up from the soil.

Serena plucks it out, rubs the dirt off it and reads the words printed on the shiny white card.

“' _ Angelonia Serena'. _ Oh Bernie. I don’t know what to say.”

Bernie comes up to stand beside her, takes Serena’s hand and presses it to her lips, kisses each of the knuckles in turn.

“Do you remember that day at the garden centre?” Bernie asks, and Serena furrows her brow. How can she not remember? Bernie thinks. “I was a giant insensitive idiot.”

“Oh!” Serena nods, but a warm smile crosses her face. “What about it darling? I barely remember it honestly.”

Of  _ course  _ she doesn’t remember it. Serena and her big, warm, endlessly forgiving heart. Serena who Bernie still believes is far too good for her. Serena who loves Bernie so completely in a way she’s never ever been loved before.

“You said, um…” Bernie huffed, bit her lip. God she was crap at this. “You said that flowers remind you of the good in the world, that they remind you of the beauty even though it’s horrible and hard and um.” she rambles on, and Serena smiles encouragingly at her.

“I realised that that’s what you are for me Serena, you remind me of all the beauty in the world. When it’s hard, you’re there and you’re good and strong and steady and I love you so much. I never ever want to hurt you. So I’m sorry. And I love you.”

Serena makes the noise that she usually reserves for puppies and newborn babies, flings herself at Bernie and buries her face in the blonde’s neck.

“Bernie Wolfe that is the single most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” She says. “I love you too darling, so, so much.”

Bernie hears a slightly sniffle, then feels dampness on her neck. “Serena are you  _ crying _ ?” she asks softly, pressing kisses into Serena’s hair.

“Hayfever.” Serena sniffles, and Bernie chuckles. “The pollen count is high today.”

“That’ll be it then.” Bernie murmurs. Allows Serena to nuzzle into her neck a little longer, runs her arms up and down the other woman’s back, a warm feeling of contentment settling in her chest.

Finally Serena steps back slightly so she can kiss Bernie softly. Bernie closes her eyes, lets herself get lost in the soft slow kiss. God she’ll never get tired of loving Serena.

“You daft woman!” Serena exclaims suddenly, pulling back and squinting at Bernie slightly. “Have you been worrying about that silly little spat all this time?”

“Well I, well. Yes.”

 

Serena smiles, her eyes still shining with tears. And Bernie melts, who wouldn’t? That smile could melt glaciers, Bernie decides.

“Bernie, listen to me." Serena says, and Bernie does. Gives the brunette her full attention. "You’re not perfect, neither am I. We’re always going to have disagreements. That comes with living together I’m afraid. But how many times have we gone to bed on an argument?”

Bernie racks her brain at the question. Try as she might she cannot think of a circumstance where that has happened, save the whole running-off-to-Kiev debacle but they’d both agreed not to bring that up anymore.

“Err, none.”

“Exactly. We’ll argue. I’ll sulk. You’ll get crabby. But we’ll always sort it before we go to sleep. I promise. And when it’s sorted, it’s done. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to feel guilty about. Okay?”

“Okay.” Bernie agrees.

“Come here.” Serena opens her arms, and this time it’s Bernie who buries into them. She can smell Serena’s worn-off perfume and it smells like home. She feels Serena’s arms tighten around her and it _feels_ like home. Bernie is not sure that she will ever get used to feeling so content.

“You’ve proven yourself quite the dab hand with this plant Miss Wolfe, I think it’s about time you helped out a little more with this garden don’t you think?”

Bernie chuckles, the noise vibrating against Serena’s own chest. “Don’t push your luck Campbell.” Bernie replies. “That’s quite enough green fingered nonsense for me this year.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a few more things that I already have in mind for future chapters, but I'm also open to suggestions. If I can make it work, I'll definitely try to include it! Hope you enjoyed!


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